Khan Shaka climbed the steps to the top of the wall. At the first report of the approaching Empire forces, she had been swamped with a flurry of orders and further reports. Readiness status, supplies, the disposition of forces, including many things that should have been handled by Khan Kubla.
As she reached the top of the wall, she drew back the hood of her cloak. She could just make out the sight of the colossal beast at the border. It must be truly massive for her to see it at that distance.
A minute motion drew her attention to the side, where a large, armored figure stood staring towards the border.
“That is a sight I have not seen in many years, Xhere.”
The Tigra turned his helmeted head towards her, giving her a brief nod. His armor was an older style, designed as much for show as it was for defense. Tight across the shoulder, loose plates and chain at the joints, elaborate carvings of past warriors rendered in exquisite detail upon nearly every surface.
“I owe it to our people to appear ready, though we will not fight this day. I took the time to walk through the city, speaking with the clans and our allies, the Shartha, Ra’shan, and the humans.”
Shaka grinned. “Ever the diplomat, even while being the warrior.”
“War is a form of diplomacy.” He turned back to watching the border, his paws clasped behind his back.
Moving to stand next to him, she nodded. “One day I hope to see your diplomacy with the Empire.”
“If everything works out as the mage claims, the Empire will choke on my diplomacy, along with the combined might of the Majestix and all others we can draw to our banner.”
“Then let us hope everything works.”
***
“I hope everything works.”
Typhonus kneeled in the basement of this building, surrounded by spellwork set in silver etched on the floor. His robes had been removed, leaving him bare chested in the chill air. If it all worked out, he’d be plenty warm enough.
“And now I’m talking to myself. Definitely time to do this before I go completely crazy, or worse, talk myself out of it.”
Reaching out for the last sphere of magicite, he cradled it in his lap. Closing his eyes, he concentrated his will, directing it into the sphere. Even through his closed lids he could see the light shining from the stone.
Suddenly, he felt connected to each of the twenty-four other spheres that surrounded the city and settlement. The magic flowed through him and the spheres, drawing on the magic in the air and slightly on every person within its influence.
The crystals embedded in his chest began to warm as they too drew magic. A shiver passed through him as the heat built. He felt for the link to the other spell, the most important part. Power was building up but it would be some time before it would be ready.
Hopefully the Empire would be accommodating in providing him the power he needed.
One day he hoped he could thank Feron for the idea of today’s spell. The expression on his face would be amazing.
***
“What are those abominations up to?”
Brightheart turned to the nearest wagon, where Feron seemed to be staring past the legs of the stone bull. “What is it, my dear Feron? Have the cats come up with some secret defense?”
The mage scowled then pointed. “It looks to be a version of the siege shield, though the color is wrong.”
Brightheart turned to look, watching as an opaque green wall seemed to rise from the ground, surrounding the distant city and a good portion of the surrounding lands.
“Shouldn’t it be a dome?”
Feron cursed and nodded. “Cats can’t get anything right. All they do is delay the inevitable.” He turned to look at Brightheart. “Tell your beast handler to smash that wall aside. They have my subjects and I mean to have them back in my care by day’s end.”
Brightheart chuckled quietly. Seemed the mage was still upset that Crighton took the dragon orb to create the elemental.
Waving to the handler, he pointed towards the wall.
The bull shuddered back into motion, tugging the wagons along with it as it lumbered forward. Lowering its head, it leveled its horns at the magical wall.
Wagons staggered to a stop as the bull smashed into the wall with a sound like a gong, repeated a thousand times in a cacophony that set Brightheart’s ears ringing.
Suddenly, the bull screamed, the sound like an avalanche of stone. It thrashed and tried to back away from the wall. The ground shook under the beast’s struggles.
Shouts rang out from the mages, several jumping out of their wagons to send fireballs scorching at the wall. Other spells shot out, blades of wind and stone, even a bolt of lightning.
Brightheart stared as all the spells seemed to disappear into the shield, like rain on a lake. All the while the elemental struggled and screamed.
Feron was suddenly running at the other mages. “Stop. Stop! It’s not a siege shield! It’s a leech shield!”
Just as he was nearing the mages, there was an explosion that engulfed everyone in stone dust. When Brightheart could finally see again he looked on in shock at the space where the bull had once stood, only to find a pile of rubble.
“What have they done?”
Brightheart wasn’t sure who spoke, but he agreed.
**
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Typhonus bit back a scream as power flowed into him, the crystals in his chest growing painfully hot. Getting his teeth, he focused all of that energy into the sphere. The magicite grew warm in his hands.
Huh. Didn’t even know it could do that.
In spite of all the pain, a smile crossed his lips. This really was the best spell he had ever devised.
If only he could have been around to see everyone’s faces, especially Marcus.
Gripping the magicite, he gave it a twist, two halves suddenly realigning into a new spell.
***
Marcus’s head snapped to the side, his gaze locking on the city as a familiar touch of magic swept past him. “Typhonus?”
Suddenly the ground around him lit up with spellwork, a pattern to large for him to read, though it felt like should know what it was, that sense of almost recognition teasing his mind.
Whatever the spell was, it had to be massive, given the little bit he could see.
Wait… was that a…
***
Shaka watched as ring after ring of magic encircled the city, reaching out to the green wall that seemed to be flickering. While she couldn’t read the spell itself, she recognized the effect from the mage’s description.
An armored paw came to rest on her shoulder. She looked over at Xhere, who continued to gaze into the distance. “It seems that things are about to change.” That calm, level voice rang out in the bell-like silence of the magic.
A soft smile came to her lips. That weight on her shoulder felt nice. Only took the fool fifty years and potentially world ending even to make a move.
There was a building pressure, like the wind before a storm. Then the world disappeared.
***
Brightheart watched with wide eyes behind his mask as those rings of magic swirled to life behind the flickering green glow of the shield. Mages were running around, screaming at each other. Even the elemental handler had abandoned his post and jumped from the wagon to join the others arguing.
Suddenly the world ignited with light, earning screams from thousands of mouths. Brightheart felt the light stab into his mind, reminding him painfully of the attack by the elves. He couldn’t even hear himself scream.
Before his sight returned there was a rush of wind that slammed him into the side of the wagon, ripping at his robes. Reaching blindly for the railing, he tried to brace himself.
Several long seconds passed before Brightheart could see and hear again, the wind fading as suddenly as it had erupted. His mask had been knocked slightly aside, though it still adhered to his face. Reaching up to fix it, he cast his gaze towards the wall.
Except there was no wall. There was nothing but a deep hole where a city and surrounding lands should have been. The hole appeared smooth, as if the earth had been cut by the elven attack, only on a much grander scale.
Could that be what happened? Had the abominations and rebels killed themselves trying to use some kind of doomsday weapon?
There was the sound of approaching feet and a faintly heard voice. “Dearheart? Dearheart! Are you alright?”
Brightheart turned to see a wagon. However, instead of being hooked to oxen, it appeared to be pulled by people. Six men had been harnessed to the wagon, dragging it behind them. Dierdra stood in the bed of the wagon and there didn’t appear to be a driver.
The wagon drew up alongside his own amidst the bedlam of soldiers, mages, and monsters. Brightheart leaned over the edge of his wagon, reaching a hand out to the mage. “My dear Dierdra, what happened to the project you were working on?”
Dierdra offered him a smile that was a mixture of pleasure and vex. She waved at her wagon pullers. “These are my project, though not quite as far along as I’d hoped.”
Turning to look at the men, Brightheart noted some immediate features. Each was deathly pale, with a slack lack of expression. They were dressed simply, with a thick gem-set leather collar about their necks.
“And what, my dear, are these?”
“There are reanimated corpses!” She grinned in triumph. “They do not feel pain or exhaustion and follow commands explicitly.” Her grin faded to a slight frown. “Unfortunately, they are not very bright. Without direction control, they can only comprehend the most basic of instructions.” She pointed to her own collar. “I've only been able to successfully control six at once. But with work I know I can control more. The potential is limitless!”
“Tireless soldiers.” Brightheart nodded. “I’ve seen living men who could only comprehend the most basic of instructions, so no loss there. We shall have to see what we can do with you… let’s call them undead.
“However, we have more pressing concerns. Our foe have disappeared, and we know not how or where.”
Feron stomped up to the agon. “We know how. Those abominations stole my teleportation scheme for my tower. I never imagined it could be used on such a scale.”
Brightheart signed. “Then they could be anywhere.”
The mage shook his head. “A spell like that, on that scale, would have limited range. My best estimate is that they are just the other side of the mountains. We’ll get them. All they’ve done is delayed things and vexed me further…” He trailed off, grumbling, then stalked away, shouting orders at the mages milling around.
Brightheart sighed again. “I would be more impressed were I not frustrated. This is such a waste of time and resources. Time and resources better used for the betterment of humanity.”
Dierdra gave his hand a squeeze. “Do no fret, Dearheart. This is only a delay. You will have plenty of time to see things through!”
“What do you have planned, my dear Dierdra?”
She just smiled.